


Freedom

by UglyWettieWrites



Category: Takin' Over the Asylum
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Erotica, F/M, First Time, Idiots in Love, Making Love, THEY'RE SO FLUFFY, They found love in a hopeless place, they are OTP material
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UglyWettieWrites/pseuds/UglyWettieWrites
Summary: Campbell and Candace have been flitting around each other like fireflies in the dark halls of St. Jude's for months. A simple conversation gives Campbell the courage to take their relationship to the next level.





	Freedom

He sat at her feet in the few minutes before lights out. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, and he was completely still, willing her to continue.

“Your hair is so soft,” she said. The scent of soap drifted up to her. “How do you get it so silky?”

It took a few seconds for him to be able to speak. “Um, I don’t do much. Just wash.”

She giggled. “My hair’s an absolute pain in the ass,” she said. “Dry as a bone, and frizzy.”

He looked up at her. Her wavy hair was in a loose bun.

“It’s pretty,” he said. He reached up to curl a tendril around his finger.

“A pretty pain in the arse,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I’ve gotten so desperate I’m putting Jergens on the ends.”

“Is that why it smells like cherries?” he said, sniffing his hand.

She shrugged. He sat on the arm of the overstuffed chair. Someone nearby balked at the nurse’s aid about his medication. He pulled off the elastic holding her hair gently and raked her hair free. It soon billowed around her face in a dark cloud.

“If you could have any three wishes, what would they be?” he said. She sighed as he massaged her scalp.

“This curiosity wouldn’t be because we watched Aladdin last night?” she said, and smiled.

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” he said. Her hair was glossy, and soft. He couldn’t begin to understand the subtleties of a woman’s vanity. But he knew that she came from good people. Her being at St. Jude’s was meant to be a punishment for the shame she caused her family with her breakdown at university. “Tell me.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. What about you?” She kicked off her worn leather slippers and curled her toes. Both her fingernails and toenails were bare, but clean and neat.

“I asked you first. I’ll say after you tell me yours.”

“Let me think, then,” she said, leaning into his side. The nurses milled around with the patients, but they watched closely.

He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “You most probably used to do all sorts of fancy things, like manicures, pedicures, and facials,” he said.

“That came out of nowhere,” she said.

“We were just talking about your hair,” he said, and played with a curl. “Same thing, kinda.”

“Before, I could afford all that, and get a blowout weekly,” she said. “My actual hair was a closely kept secret,” she said conspiratorially. “Mother hated it. Always. You can’t imagine how many times I thought she’d yank it right out my head while combing it in primary school.”

“That’s horrible. What’s a blowout?” he said.

“Going to the salon to get it washed and blow-dried into a silken mane, like yours,” she said.

“But I like your hair,” he said. “It’s the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.”

“Slim pickings here, though.” she said softly, and withdrew. She had endured years upon years of verbal and emotional abuse from her adoptive mother. Despite her crippling bouts of depression, she managed to still get grades decent enough for a good university. Her father - her own flesh and blood - sat back and let it happen for the sake of peace in the household … until she broke down and tried to take her own life three times in two days. He found her on a bench by a canal on a rainy afternoon, bleeding into the soaked bench and repeating the words “I’m tired. So tired. Tired.”

Even after that, her father was still married to the woman. And that woman put her in St. Jude’s.

“No. You light up this dark place,” he said. The jagged, too-pink scars on her arms made him shiver.

“Shh,” she said. “No fibbing.”

“It’s not a lie. I promise,” he said earnestly, and knelt in front of her. She’d gone pale and tight-lipped. He didn’t want her to have another episode. The last time, it took her a week to fully come back to herself. Every time, he missed her more and more. Gladly, every time, they got shorter.

Her eyes drifted slowly to his face. They swam in tears.

“Tell me your wishes,” she said again. He didn’t like the sluggishness in her voice. Any more symptoms, and he was yelling for Isabel.

“First one: no more mental illness,” he said.

She sniffed. “No good. It’s like wishing for no more death. Genie can’t grant it,” she said.

“You’re being far too sensible,” he said, squeezing her hands. Her head drooped a bit lower, and her beautiful hazel eyes began to go a flat brown. “Okay, fine.” He put his hand on her cheek. She looked at him again. “Eh … eh ... to get us out of here. Forever,” he said.

She remained silent, but she was still with him.

“A really nice car to drive away in,” he said excitedly. “One that didn’t need petrol. It would go as far as we needed to go, no matter what.”

She smiled. It was painfully slow and barely there, but he would take it.

“One more, Aladdin,” she said softly. The sound of her voice gave him strength. If she could still talk, there was still hope.

“To give you three wishes,” he said. He kissed her hand.

“Okay, you two. Enough with all that,” a nurse’s assistant said.

“Now you’ll have to really think and tell me yours,” he whispered in her hair. The woman took one look at her and called Isabel. He squeezed her hand again. “Please. I’d love to know them.”

“Fly,” she whispered back. “Far.”

“That’s way better than mine,” he said, reluctant to let go of her hand as Isabel walked briskly to them.

“Alright Campbell, time for bed,” she said. The nurse’s aid handed her a prepped syringe. Isabel put it in her pocket.

“But you have to think real hard about the other two. I can’t wait to hear them,” he said to her. He pressed his lips against her temple.

“Off you go. She’ll be fine. She just needs some rest,” Isabel said, rubbing his arm. He nodded and took a step back. The two women picked her up, and walked her to the women’s dorm. He hated the way her feet dragged, and how her normally ballet-straight spine sagged with an unsurmountable despair.

“Fly,” he repeated under his breath. He wished she could fly too.

* * *

**Two days later**

 

“Can I see her? Can I see her?” he said, flitting around Isabel. She had been under strict supervision for the last 48 hours, but gladly, she had not gone away completely.

“I’ll ask her if she’s in the mood,” she said. She smiled as she walked to her room. She knew Campbell for years, and she had never seen him so keen. Some doctors were strictly against any deep personal relationships between patients. In her heart, she knew that in a place like St. Jude’s, a healthy attachment could mean the difference between a breakthrough that sped wellness and treading water for years. The trick was being able to judge what is healthy and what is not. After 25 years of experience, she’d gotten really good at telling the difference.

She watched her and Campbell for months, and she couldn‘t deny that they did better together. Ever since they became friends, she could focus on something outside of herself. And her affection seemed to give him peace. Just as long as it didn’t tip into codependence, she secretly approved of them.

“Hello, poppet,” Isabel said, and sat on the bed. “How are you feeling today?”

“You’re the fifth person who’s asked me that in the last hour,” Candace said, but she smiled back. “I’m okay. I’ve got my books.”

“Someone’s mighty eager to see you,” she said, pointing to the door. Campbell waved at her, a giant grin on his face. She sat up and smoothed her hair.

“I need a proper wash,” she said, frustrated.

“You look … fine,” she said. Her heart beat fast. Had she said beautiful, it would’ve put her in a week-long tailspin. After her stepmother’s relentless belittling, any careless comment about her appearance could sicken her with anxiety. “Would you mind a visit? I’ll come back in 15 minutes just in case you want to take a breath,” she said, and winked at her.

“No. He doesn’t bother me in the least,” she said. She pulled her dressing gown tighter around her.

Isabel waved him in. He burst through to door.

“Candy!” he yelled, arms raised high. “It’s been an age.”

“It’s been two days,” she said, but she settled back into the pillows with a smile. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“But you’re sweet,” he said, and sat on the other end of her bed. She rolled her eyes. Isabel walked out, and asked a nurse’s aid to come around in a quarter of an hour.

“I missed you,” he said, and wiggled her foot.

“I didn’t go far,” she said, and patted the place beside her. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting long on those last two wishes.”

“Brilliant,” he said, and sat closer. “Do you remember the first?” He put his hand over hers.

“To fly,” she said. He was relieved to see she didn’t sound haunted. Her voice was steady and clear.

“Where would you go?” he said. He patted his pocket for the bottles. He was nervous. He hadn’t been idle while she was resting. He had a plan. She wanted flight. He couldn’t give her wings, but maybe he could come close.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Somewhere beautiful.”

“Anywhere you are is- _nice_ ,” he said. He knew not to use the word. But it didn’t stop him from telling her in a thousand other ways. “Would it be a magic carpet? No, a plane. That’s sensible,” he said.

“I’d want to be able to turn into a griffin,” she said. “Half lion, half eagle.”

“That sounds frightening,” he said. “You been reading a lot of fantasy books lately?

“Maybe. They’re majestic creatures,” she said. “And scary. Few people would mess with us.”

“Us?” he said, leaning in.

“Yeah. Whenever we need to beat feet, I turn, you jump on my back, and off we go,” she said.

“So, let me unpack what you just said,” he said, putting his hand by her hip. She chuckled and pulled at his shirt to silence him with a kiss. “No, no, let me process it fully...”

“What is there to process?” she said. She brushed the hair out of his eyes.

“You just told me your first wish is for me to ride you,” he said. Her eyebrows rose. “All around the world.”

“When you put it that way …” she said, biting her lip. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean. Why not? I’m a massive lion eagle. Unless you’d prefer the forever car. If anything, you could sell the car to some company for an exorbitant price and we’d be set for life.”

“You’re a wacky young lady,” he said, and crossed his eyes.

“You would know.”

“As those very butch men on the American telly shows say … damn skippy.” He looked down at her lap. “What you reading?”

“Isabel Allende,” she said. “The House of the Spirits.”

“Sounds grisly,” he said. He stretched out beside her. “Does it have murderous ghosts?”

She ruffled his hair, and traced down the line of his jaw. “Not in the traditional sense. Have you ever heard of magical realism in literature?”

“Not at all,” he said, rubbing his face. “My schooling was bit more,eh, spotty than yours.”

“And still, you’re frighteningly clever,” she said, tugging gently on his ear.

“You flatter,” he said. He put his hand on her belly. She remembered how completely and utterly nude she was underneath her convalescents - no knickers, no bra. His warm brown eyes narrowed as if he’d read her mind. He moved closer. His mouth was only inches from hers. His breath smelled of the fruit they served for breakfast. She wondered whether his mouth would be as sweet. He got closer. The luxuriant warmth of his gaze made her sigh. His hand drifted lower. Her mouth watered with the desire to lick the shine off his plump lower lip. His fingertips pressed now. They were kissing close-

Isabel burst into the room, holding a large bouquet of flowers. “Hello, chickadees!” she said, and put the flowers on the bedside table. She plucked the card from the holder. “They’re from your mam. ‘Best’, it says.” She smelled the flowers, then handed the card to her. Candace sighed … then sneezed three times in a row. Then twice more.

“Bless you five times,” she said, handing her a tissue from her pocket. Candace’s eyes watered.

“Th … thank … ugh-CHOO!” She blew right through the tissue. Campbell stood and wiped his cheek. She was red with misery and embarrassment.

“Cam I’m so- ah -AHCHOO!” She used her blanket to cover her face. She was beginning to wheeze between sneezes.

“I think it’s the bloody flowers,” Campbell said. “They’re making ‘er ill.” She sneezed five times in a row. Her nose ran freely. He picked them up and walked out.

“You’re allergic, aren’t you?” she said, staring after him. She nodded, then wiped her nose delicately with the edge of the blanket. Her eyes were swelling fast. “But they’re from your mother.”

“Can I get…” her lungs squeaked, ”can I get some medicine for this?”

She ran out herself and came back with a white pill and a glass of water. She took them gratefully and sneezed again. She took a deep breath and lay back.

“Lilacs,” she said finally. “I’m terribly allergic to them.”

“Okay,” she said softly. She felt a mix of guilt and irritation. They were from her mother. Shouldn’t she know what plants might possibly cause her daughter’s throat to close up? She sat by her and put her hand on the young woman’s forehead for a moment. It was damp with sweat.

“What do you say to a quick bath?” she said.

“Bath?” she said, and sat up. Usually, all they got were seven minutes in a  communal shower, where they could be watched by the nurse’s aids. Baths were only for catatonics, and the ill. Campbell walked in, wearing a new shirt.

“Where’d you go?” Isabel said.

“To get rid of the offending article,” he said. Took it down to the cafe so Harry can get it out of the building. Then I changed.” It was thoughtful of him. They smiled dreamily at each other. Isabel resisted the urge to chuckle.

“Are you ready to go?” she said to Candace. She put on her slippers and grabbed her towel from her locker.

“YES,” she said.

“Where you going?” he said, pouting. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

“She’s going to wash the allergens off,” Isabel said, moving behind her. “She’ll be back in a bit.”

“Hurry back, angel,” he said dramatically, and put his hand on his chest.

“Silly man,” she said, and blew him a kiss on her way out. He followed them out, and they went on down the hallway to the bathroom. He walked to his room, and it was mercifully empty. He took the precious packets from underneath the mattress and stuffed them in his pants. His pockets clicked with goodies. He smiled, then sauntered out to the common room, whistling.

* * *

 

She sat in the empty seat beside him as he stuffed the last bit of ham sandwich in his mouth.

“Hey there,” she said. There was only an orange and a bowl of consomme on her tray. She was brushed and sweetly perfumed, and her cheeks had a suggestive flush that filled him with anticipation.

He swallowed and wiped his mouth. “Hey,” he said, and stood up. “I’m gonna go get some pudding. You want me to get you something?” he said casually. But it was measured.

“Oh, uh, no thanks,” she said, shaking her head. He walked away, but not as quickly as usual. She sighed loudly. “Well, if you’re already going, maybe you could get me some roast chicken. A little bit of breast meat.”

“Gravy? He said. Again, in a hurry on purpose. She loved roast anything. But she’d never get it for herself. She feared looking indulgent. “A drop or two.”

He came back with a double helping of custard and cake, and a steaming bowl of chicken and vegetables, covered in a savory gravy. Her eyes widened, but she looked around.

“Go on. I took liberties, but no one’s watching,” he whispered, and bit his lip. “It smells delicious.” He sat in front of her and watched as she delicately separated the vegetables from the chicken.

“It’s not the breast,” she said. It was a juicy bit of thigh meat. Her back was to the crowd, so she was hidden from anyone’s critical gaze. With a smile, she tucked in. He ate his custard and watched her from the corner of his eye. He didn’t have all the details, but he knew enough. Around age 12, her mum thought she was getting “too plump”, and had put her on a strict diet. Despite the fact she was healthy and just going through puberty,  it was ryevita, cottage cheese, and broiled fish and chicken. For years. And if she ever deviated, she shamed Candace into a panic, telling her no one would ever want a lumpy, frizzy, dull, ugly girl.

He didn’t have the best opinion of her mam. Although he wasn’t allergic to flowers, he scrubbed his hands red after throwing away that cursed bouquet. The woman was a monster. But he was resolved to help Candace heal. It took months and a few scares to figure out a way to get her to eat, but he had a good system. If she felt hidden, and safe, she ate what he brought her. It made him warm to know she trusted him so much.

Soon, her fork scraped the bowl.

“Did you like it?” he asked, whisking the bowl out of her sight quickly. If not, she would feel guilty for eating all of it.

“It’s quite good, for hospital food,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin.

“Harry’s a gem,” he said, speaking about the head cook, who took pains to feed them the best he could with a limited budget. The nurse’s aids began to move everyone out of the cafeteria to start the afternoon activities. In their ward, they could choose to read, or watch television, or even nap if you could stand the din. The nurse’s aids and Isabel took their breaks in staggered 45 minute increments, so the ward wasn’t fully staffed again until after four. It was time. He leaned close to her. “I’ve got a surprise for you. A big one.”

“Okay,” she said. She perked up.

He stood up and beckoned for her to follow. “Be casual,” he said.

“Are we going for nice long walk in the vast rabbit warren?” she said cheerfully. Even if it was just that, she’d be happy if she was with him. He made anything better.

“You’ll see,” he said. He involved both Rosalie and Fergus in his surprise, and he was getting more and more nervous.

“Maybe I should put proper shoes on if we’re going on a real adventure,” she said, looking down at her slippers.

“There’s people walking around without trousers here. It’s fine,” he said.

“That might be nice,” she said, and giggled. “You can really catch the breeze.”

He laughed and took her hand. He opened the door and looked both ways. The nurse’s aid sitting nearby rolled his eyes and went back to his magazine and cigarette.

“Follow me,” he said. He walked against the wall, looking both ways again before turning a corner.

“You’re not being very smooth, Bond,” she said.

He put his finger over his lips. “Keep your head on a swivel,” he said, and led her into the stairwell. There were locked door both going both up and down, even though people rarely went upstairs - the floor above them was used for storage.

“We’re at the end of the line,” she said, leaning against the cinderblock wall. Its coolness was a  simple pleasure. “Let’s go back to the common room. I’m in dire need of some sun.”

He looked through the small rectangular window on the door intently. When the hallway was empty, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the upstairs door. He looked behind him one last time, and pushed. It opened silently, and the stairs beyond were illuminated by sunlight - the top level had large, gothic floor-to-ceiling windows.

“You’re mad!” she said as he pulled her through, and closed the door quietly behind them.

“That’s not news,” he said. He jumped the stairs two at a time and ducked into the top floor stairwell with a smile. “Let’s see whether Fergus worked his magic.” He pushed. It gave easily.

“Yes!” he whispered, and pulled her through to the uppermost floor of the asylum. The hallway was empty and dusty, but searingly bright with sunlight. He tried to walk further, but she stayed put.

“What are you doing, Cam? We’ll get in trouble. They’ll separate us.”

“They won’t. I’ve got agents on the move,” he said. “They’ll be busy for the rest of the day. I made sure of it.” He spoke about Fergus, Rosalie, Francine, and Eddie. They meant to keep the nurse’s aids busy well into the afternoon, just for the sake of giving them some alone time. She stood fast. He squeezed her hand. “Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

He smiled. “Come,” he said. He walked confidently into the abandoned top floor, turning a corner and going down a hallway that looked a lot like the hallway below. “Almost there.”

She sniffed the air. It smelled like Dettol. “Rosalie?” she whispered.

He turned and smiled. “She’s been around, yes,” he said. He opened a door, and they walked into an office. It had floor to ceiling windows like in the hallway, and someone had recently taken the time to clean off the dust and cobwebs. There was a desk, some cracked leather chairs, and a chaise covered by a flowered blanket in front of the largest window. On a coffee table in front of the chaise, there was something covered by a clean towel.

“Tada!” he said. “Our own little paradise.”

“Did Rosalie help you with this?” she said, running her finger along the desk. It had most probably sat unused for 20 years, but it was now spotless.

“Yeah, she did. We snuck up last night after Fergus figured out the locks to make it presentable. I know it’s not Ms. Frou Frou's tearoom...”

“It’s perfect,” she said, taking a deep breath, then coughing. Sadly, Rosalie couldn’t clean the dust from the air. “Best of all, we’re alone.”

“Yes, we are,” he said, and leaned against the door. Just as he was about to lock it, she put her hand on his wrist.

“Don’t. This building’s full of locked doors. I want to be open with you,” she said, then blushed. “Just for once.”

“Me too,” he said, and walked to the chaise and sat down. He patted the place beside him. “Come and see.”

She walked in front of him and ran her fingers through his hair. He pressed his face to her breasts. She took off her shirt. He smiled when he saw she wore nothing underneath. Her clean skin gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, and her nipples were already hard. His lips pursed to suck, then he stopped.

“We can take our time,” he said, looking up at her. He remembered well how things were when she first came. Then, she didn’t like to be touched at all, and she trembled and shied away even from Isabel. Now, she trembled with desire in his arms, but he didn’t want to make her feel like this was all he had in mind for the surprise.

She ran the pad of her thumb along his lower lip. “If we had all the time in world, I would take it,” she said. She wore no panties, and wetness trailed down her thigh as she pushed her jeans past her knees and kicked them off. “But we don’t. Will you make love to me before I burn up?”

He was speechless. He wondered how long she wanted to before now.

“Fuck,” he said softly as her scent hit him. He caressed up her narrow hips to her breasts. He was nervous. She was several years older, and surely more experienced.

“I haven’t showed you what I got you yet,” he said. His voice squeaked a bit, although his cock was hard for her. She sat beside him again, linking her arm in his. He kissed her, quick and hard, then lifted the towel off the tray in front of them.

There was an old-fashioned flat silver hairbrush. A star-shaped barrette, sparkling with fine crystals. A tube of lipstick in a lovely crimson. A closed compact mirror. A small pink bakery box. And a bottle of scented oil.

She gasped and touched the barrette, then the hairbrush. “They’re so beautiful! What are they for?”

He shook his head slowly. “For you. Well, the brush is borrowed - it’s Rosalie’s. Everything else is yours. I hope you like it,” he said, giving her a shy smile. “Oh, and this-” He pulled two bottles of nail polish out of his pocket, one a shell pink, the other a rich maroon.

She gave him a tender look, then opened the tube of lipstick.

“I remember you saying you missed lipstick a while back,” he said, nodding at it. “Rosalie helped me pick the shade, then Fergus got it. He also got you these-” He picked up the small bakery box. Inside, in pink tissue, were nestled four perfect petit fours decorated with sugared flowers and fruit.

“Wow,” she said, her eyes wide. “They look scrumptious.”

“They’re different flavors. I made sure to remind him to get you lemon, since I know how much you like it,” he said, pointing to a yellow one topped with edible gold leaf.

She brought them close to her nose and smelled them. “Mmmm,” she said, but she closed the box and put them down. “What’s this?” she said, pointing to the small bottle of oil. Her silky, warm nudity made it hard for him to think. He licked his lips.

“It’s … eh, hair oil. Fran said it’s the best, but it’s pricey, so I couldn’t get much with my allowance.”

She opened it, sniffed, and brightened. “That’s lovely. There’s oil of camellia in this,” she said, pouring a few precious drops on her palm and rubbing it in. “And maybe rose. This is very fine.” She kissed his cheek, then his forehead. “Thanks, Cam.” The oil’s flowery scent wafted to him.

“Can I brush it into your hair?” he said shyly.

“Why would you want to do that?” she said, leaning back to give him a better look at her.

“I want to pamper you,” he said. “I reckon I can brush and paint and massage,” he said, and rubbed his palms together.

“If that’s the case, I won’t say no,” she said with a smile. She picked up her shirt, but he gently tugged it away.

“You don’t have to be dressed for this. This salon’s full service, miss.” He winked.

Her eyebrow rose. “Yes, sir,” she said, and sat down. “I’m completely in your hands.”

He got behind her with oil and brush. Her hair was still damp at the roots from the bath. He untangled it gently and massaged her scalp. She leaned into him and sighed. Her nipples hardened again with his touch, but she let him take his time. He dripped oil on his palm, warmed it, and rubbed it on her ends.

“You know, Fergus told me and Francine a story about this oil,” he said as he brushed softly from root to tip.

“Aye?” she said. Her eyes were closed, and she was lax against him.

“Japanese women, mainly geisha, use oil of camellia for their hair and skin,” he said. “It’s the secret to their beauty.”

She smiled. “Geisha don’t have this hair,” she said, trying to be funny.

“Sucks to be them,” he said, brushing her now shining waves. “I would do this every day, if you let me.” He placed the barette near her temple, where it would catch the shine of her eyes. “There. Do you want to see?”

“Okay,” she said softly. When she first got there, she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror. But everyday, it got easier.

He picked up the compact and opened it. “Ready?” he said excitedly. She nodded. He held it in front of her. She smiled at her reflection.

“I look …” her mouth worked, and she patted her hair. A ghost of a smile played on her lips. “The barette is perfect. I feel like royalty.” She picked up the lipstick. He watched as she dabbed it on carefully, then traced carefully around her full lips. She went from shy beauty to starlet with a swipe of red. “Good?” she said, rubbing her lips together.

He sighed and nodded emphatically. She was beautiful. Really beautiful. Way too beautiful for this place, and possibly for him. But he wouldn’t let himself get wrapped up in the thought.

“Kiss me,” he said, kneeling in front of her.

“This stuff stains,” she said.

His fingertips caressed circles into her hips. He took off his shirt and threw it aside.

“I don’t care. Mark me then.” He pulled her into his arms. She sighed.

“But not your lovely face. You’ll be red for days,” she said. “But there are other places I can kiss.”

“Aye?” he said, his eyebrows high.

“Lay back, Cam,” she said. The early afternoon sun made their skin glow.

“You look … like a jewel,” he said, blushing furiously. She touched the barette and nodded, but he shook his head. “Not that. You.” He touched from her neck down to her breasts, and she sighed above him. Their firmness made him forget himself, and he squeezed hard. She gasped, and he let go. She giggled and put his hands back on her.

“You’re fine. They’re a bit sore,” she said.

“Sore?” he said innocently. His thumbs caressed the taut nubs of her nipples without thinking. She sighed, and her eyelids drooped. “Does this hurt?”

“No,” she said. He licked one tentatively. She shivered and made a sound. His grip tightened around her, and he licked a wet circle around her other nipple.

“No pain?” he said. He rubbed his lower lip against her, then teased it with the tip of his tongue.

She moaned and ground herself against him.

He stopped licking. “Wait!” She opened her eyes wide. He looked down at his jeans, which already had a lemon-sized wet spot. “These are my only pair until Friday.”

“Ah,” she said. She slid off his lap and unbuttoned him, and he kicked them off. She laughed when she saw his pants. They were a jaunty shade of orange, and covered with dancing bananas. He stood up, hands on his hips, and modeled them for her.

“You fancy ‘em?” he said, rolling his hips. “They’re my very favorite pair. I wore them special for you.”

“They’re … interesting,” she said, still kneeling. She ran her fingers up his fuzzy calves, and tickled the backs of his knees. “Very fetching.”

“The banana men are dancing for you,” he said, and swallowed hard as her hand moved up the back of his thighs and past the hem of the pants. She kissed his flat belly, and left a crimson ring around his belly button. She kissed interlocking rings down to the waistband, then hooked her finger on it- he put his hand on her wrist. She looked up at him, and he smiled at her.

“Let me,” he said. She kept her eyes on him until he caressed her and pressed her cheek to his naked hip. She moaned and nuzzled closer to the soft, fragrant hair, where he swelled. He made a soft sound as she squeezed his hips and kissed him rapturously, her mouth getting closer and closer to him. How long had it been since she wanted it this bad? She tried to think back, but everything was mercifully fuzzy. Her desire for him, now, was in blindingly sharp focus. His scent, soap and skin and something more atavistic, made her lips throb for friction. He echoed the throb, and he pressed thick and hard against her cheek. He sat down and she wriggled between his legs, lips already parted to suck.

“Lie here, by me,” he said, taking her face in his hands. She gave his erection a longing look then lay by him. She reached out to stroke him, but he took her hand and kissed it. “This is about you, not me.”

He got his share of blowjobs, but to him, it was a haphazard, mildly embarrassing act done in a pub bog or a car that ended with a grimace and spitting. He didn’t want that for her.

“What makes you think finally tasting you wouldn’t give me pleasure?” she said, caressing his chest. He didn’t have a response. No girl ever told him that. But Candace was not just a keen neighborhood girl. He wanted to impress her.

“All the more reason to tease,” he said with a wink. He sat by her hip, and she spread her legs for him. It took everything not to roll onto her, but he meant to make her forget.

“Are you gonna actually lie here, or just stare?” she said, smiling. She loved his hungry gaze.

“I want to touch you,” he said, putting his hand over her heart. Her, lying here naked and gleaming in front of the window was better than he imagined so many times. He kissed her, and realized why. In his fantasies, he didn’t give himself permission to imagine her flush with desire for him. But now, she was. He kissed the sweat away from her neck and sat up.

“More kisses,” she said, reaching up for him. He gently tugged on her nipple as his other hand moved between her thighs. Her heat made him shiver, but he rubbed her slick swollen flesh until her head fell back to the chaise.

“You’re so-” his mouth snapped shut, but she didn’t notice. He wanted to say beautiful Gorgeous. Lovely. But it might ruin things. Frustration crawled its way up his spine, but it was selfish. With her, for now, it had to remain show, and not tell. He parted her lips and pressed his finger to her clit, and she arched. He caressed down to her belly, then back up to her breast as he stroked her gently, first sideways, then in a circular motion, then dipping down to her opening and up-

She shivered and groaned. Bingo. He leaned forward and concentrated, watching her avidly as he fondled her. One trembling hand caressed and massaged her neck, breasts, and belly, and the other kept a slow, steady rhythm between her legs. She grasped the flowered sheet and writhed, opening her legs wider. She licked her lips slowly, and wetness seeped between his fingers. Sweat dripped down her brow into her hair, and now her whole body blushed rosy. Her desire intensified his, and he resisted the urge to stroke himself.

“You’re … amazing,” she said, and reached into his lap. She moaned when she felt slickness, then squeezed him. He sighed, and his fingers circled her opening. She twitched against them, and he echoed the twitch in her hand. She rolled her hips into his touch, and his fingers slid easily into her. Her tight heat made his hips buck. He curled them as he was taught and started his stroke and press inside her. She moaned, long and deep, and pressed his hand to her. She guided the hand on her breast to her lips, and sucked his thumb. Her tongue stroked and undulated on it in a way that made his vision double. He wanted it on his cock.

“I want you. Now,” she said, sitting up to straddle him, then stopped. “Fuck!” She bit his shoulder. “Do you have, um, something?”

“Yeah.” He jumped up and grabbed his pants and searched his pockets for the silver packets he hid so carefully under his bed. He held them up, and she smiled.

“I’m glad you planned for everything,” she said. She took one, and held him there. “Stay.”  She tore it open, looking up at him. Before she rolled it on, she stroked down his shaft and licked a wide circle on the crown of his cock. He groaned and almost fell to his knees. She put the packet down and cupped his balls with her other hand. “Again?”

Before he responded, she licked her lips wet and rubbed them on the dark rose tip of his cock and mmm’ed deep in her throat. He whimpered as she took him in her mouth, deeper with each bob of her head, until he felt the back of her throat contract around him. Again, she moaned. He pulsed dangerously against her tongue, but she scratched lightly down the small of his back and squeezed his ass. He thought about just letting it happen. He wanted it. Wanted her. She used her hand and her mouth now, moaning as she slurped on her own saliva.

“Oh, Cam,” she said, and licked up the underside of his cock, then took him into her mouth again, sucking hungrily. He opened his eyes and watched. Her cheeks were mottled with red, and her eyes were half closed. She stroked and licked and suckled so beautifully. It looked like touching and tasting him aroused her as much as it aroused him. Her mouth moved below to lick his balls, and he tensed.

“You don’t like?” she said.

“You’re … yes, it’s lovely,” he said. His tongue was heavy with desire. “It’s just - I want to finish-” He pulled her up to standing. His kiss was both gentle and deep, and she laid back and pulled him on top of her. He rolled the condom on, but he sat and looked at her again, a faraway grin on his face.

“Make love to me,” she said, and caressed his thigh. He took her hand and put it on his chest. He couldn’t say most of what he wanted to say, but there was one thing that was true that he couldn’t hold back.

“I love you, Candace.” His heart beat fast against her palm. “Ever since the dark days, I did.”

“The dark days?” she said.

“When you first came and it was hard for you. I knew you’re different. You’re too good for-” She put her finger over his lips.

“I love you too, Cam. Ever since you first made me laugh,” she said, and pulled him on top of her.

“Sweet Candace.” He sank into her. She gasped, and her thighs tightened around him. “Okay?” he said. He stopped.

“Beautiful,” she said, and pulled him into her deeper with her hands on his hips. He lay on his elbows and moved slowly, looking into her eyes. The sunlight made all of her deliciously visible. The smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose. The green in her left eye. The perfect mole over her clavicle. The sky was a crisp blue, with nary a cloud. It felt like he was making love to her far away from St. Jude’s. Far from the squalor and despair. He trembled with love.

“Where are you?” she said, and kissed him.

“With you, sweetheart,” he said breathlessly. He hugged her and pressed his lips against her forehead as he moved faster inside her. She arched and moaned into his skin. Her thighs tightened around his hips.

“Close?” he whispered in her ear. He caressed down her side to grip her thigh.

“God, yes,” she said. He balanced himself precariously over her with one arm as he thrust into her, and she giggled into his shoulder. “You can lie on top of me, honey. I won’t break.”

“But I’m big,” he said. He was at least half a foot taller than her.

“I know, baby. And I love it,” she said, moving his other hand to her hip. She moved liquidly underneath him as he made love to her. She wrapped her arms around him and sighed into the crook of his neck. “I wanted this.”

“Me?” he said. She raked her fingernails down his back gently.

“Yes,” she said, dragging the word out as he thrust deep into her. She squeezed his ass and bucked into him. He groaned and matched her rhythm. Her breasts were a delicious pressure against him, and he stopped and slid to kneeling to suck them. His eyes drifted to the rose of her inner thighs. He kissed her there, and her skin was hot and tender.

“It’s the friction,” she said, and tried to pull him up. His eyes rolled closed and he kissed her mound. She moaned and spread her legs. He licked down to her slit and found her clit. It pulsed against the tip of his tongue, and instead of licking, he sucked. Her thighs pressed on the sides of his head, and he groaned his pleasure. He sucked firmly, unafraid, and she swelled against his lips. Her heels pressed against his shoulder blades.

“God. Your mouth,” she said as he licked down to her opening, gathering her salt, then back up to her clit to suck. “Oh my god-” He spread her open further, pulling her thighs apart hard enough his fingers indented her tender flesh. Her hand was a fist in his thick hair, and her toes curled tight. He moaned into her and licked down, and up to suck again.

“Yes. yes. That.” she said through gritted teeth. “Please.” He obeyed, starting a deliciously slow rhythm. Undulating lick. Swirl around her twitching opening, then back up to suck hungrily. His whole body tingled. She dripped fresh wetness with each swirl of his tongue, and it was gorgeous. She wanted him. She loved him. She was delicious. She whispered something he couldn’t quite hear.

“Mmmph?” he said into her. He didn’t want to stop, even to speak.

“Gonna come,” she said louder. “I’m gonna … _come_ ,” she said. Even through her gasping pleasure, he heard surprise. He caressed up to her breasts and tugged both nipples gently. “Fuck.” She shivered.

He was good enough to make her swear. He smiled into her and kept going.

“Come back,” she said. Her fist tightened in his hair. She pulsed against his tongue and on his lips. He grunted through the ache and moved faster. “Please, Cam. Come up-” she gasped, and her belly trembled underneath his hands. “Come-” He moaned into her, encouraging her.

Her pussy snapped against his chin, and he sighed and kept licking as she bucked into his face and moaned out her orgasm. He stopped and looked at her, but she wasn’t smiling. She pulled him up and into her. He got goosebumps from her twitching tightness, and he wasn’t as gentle this time. He grabbed her shoulders for leverage and thrust deep and quick into her, and she bit his shoulder and moaned rhythmically into him. He twisted his hips and she groaned.

“Harder. You won’t hurt me,” she said, and licked his earlobe. Her body was taut and ready underneath him. He kissed her forehead and left wetness on her skin. If she wanted it, he couldn’t refuse her. He grabbed the edge of the chaise over her head and pumped into her. Both their bodies bucked with the force of it, but when he looked at her, she was finally smiling. “Yes. Sweet … freedom,” she said, and touched his face.

Freedom, he thought. He succeeded. The scent of camellia wafted up to him, and he kissed her temple right by the gleaming barrette. She was beautiful. And she loved him. He rolled his hips into her, wanting to keep going until she trembled underneath him, but his own pleasure swelled over his heart. He shivered and his rhythm became erratic.

“Yes, honey,” she said, and rolled her hips into him, urging him on. “Do it.” He gripped her shoulders again and rode her into a deep body orgasm that took his breath away. He saw colors dancing behind his eyelids, and his heart roared in his ears. When he came back into himself, she was still wrapped tight around him, caressing up and down his back. He rolled off her and pulled her into his arms.

“Sorry,” he said, and kissed her sticky forehead.

“For what?” she said, then giggled again. The sound had a musicality it didn’t have before. She was satisfied. Happy.

“Nevermind,” he said, and breathed deep, taking in their mixed scent. She kissed down his neck and pressed butterfly kisses on his chest.

“I love you, honey,” she said, and kissed back up to his mouth and made a face. “You taste interesting.”

“Delicious, you mean,” he said, and gave her a loud kiss on the lips. “I love you too, Candy.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I thought you hated when people call you that.”

“Do you do it to annoy me?” she said, and rose to start dressing. He reached out to caress her back as she pulled on her jeans.

“Naw. Because you’re sweet.” There were small red marks where his fingers dug into her shoulder. He sat up and kissed her there as his hands moved to cup her breasts.

“Then only you can call me Candy. Sometimes.” She closed her eyes and sighed at his tenderness.

“Times like now?” he said, and kissed her neck.

“Things are gonna get really interesting down in the ol’ rabbit warren,” she said, and bit her lip. “I don’t want this to be the only time.”

“Me neither. But love will find a way,” he said, and waggled his brow at her.

“It better,” she said, and pulled him in for a kiss.

* * *

Someone knocked at the door. “It’s me. Rosalie.”

“Come in,” Campbell said.

Rosalie burst into the room, holding a can of Dettol defensively in front of her. She waved her rubber-gloved hand at the dust motes flying around her.

“Ey, you lot. Isabel’s on the warpath. Time’s up,” she said, averting her eyes.

“Alright then. Almost done,” Campbell said. Rosalie looked in the direction of his voice. She expected to see clothes everywhere, and naked flesh. Instead, they were fully dressed and relaxing. She daintily ate a cake and read a magazine as he bent over her feet, painting her toenails. She smiled. So much for ravenous youth.

“Eddie's got her distracted, and Fergus hightailed it out an hour ago to distract the nurse’s aids. She still asked about you, though. I figured it was time you headed back before she suspects something.”

He blew gently on her toes, then stood up and stretched. There was something in the slow way they moved that told her they hadn’t just had tea and cakes. She was happy for them. This place was hell. They deserved a bit of normalcy.

“Come on, Candace,” he said, and held out his hand to pull her up. She sighed and smiled at Rosalie.

“Care for a petit four?” she said, holding out the box. Rosalie eyed it suspiciously. They were not individually wrapped. Candace nodded and closed the box. “Another time, then.”

They walked back down to the ward, hand in hand, behind Rosalie. Isabel was at the nurse’s station, on the phone with someone. They let go and walked to the common room, where a soap opera roared for one of the older patients. She sat down, and he sat at her feet, careful not to smudge the polish. She ran her fingers through his hair, then blew gently at the sweat near his scalp.

“You didn’t tell me your other wishes,” he said, looking at up her. “You stopped at flight.”

The afternoon sun gilded his cheekbones, and her eyes watered with love.

“I don’t have any more wishes,” she said. “I can’t think of a single thing I need right this moment.”

“Maybe later,” he said, and lay his head on her knee.

“Yeah.”

“You two,” Isabel said, walking to them quickly, hands on her hips. Campbell stood and took a step away from Candace. “Do you know where Fergus went? We can’t find hide nor hair of him.”

“I had no idea he escaped again. Have you tried looking at the computer shop a few blocks down? He likes going there to see the latest technology,” he said, wriggling his fingers in a typing action.

“Alright. I’ll tell them,” she said. She took a few steps, then turned. Again, they jumped. She resisted the urge to laugh. “By the way. I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Right, ma’am. I’ll be on my best behavior, henceforth. I promise,” Campbell said, and saluted.

Candace nodded. “Me too.”

“Good,” she said, and walked away. They didn’t see her smiling.


End file.
